


Insomnia

by Syrum



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Force Ghosts, Ghosts, Horror, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-11 09:32:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7042588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrum/pseuds/Syrum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dangerous things lurk in the dark.  Dangerous, deadly, <i>old.</i></p>
<p>
  <i>Hux finds this out the hard way, when Ren accidentally brings something on board the Finalizer that should not be there.  His inability to acknowledge such an ancient power, though, could prove to be his undoing.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insomnia

 

_Art by[Sirins-Tree](http://sirins-tree.tumblr.com/)_

* * *

As far as the phenomenon known is ‘Force Ghosts’ was concerned, the jury - that is to say, those with knowledge of or at least a belief in the Force as a whole - was still very decidedly out. Many believed them to be a myth, the product of over-stimulated minds and the babblings of too-old Jedi who had seen too much. Some - the majority of believers, in fact - believed that they were the spirits of those who had passed on, Jedi strong enough with the Force to remain at least in part within the living world. Others, by contrast, believed Force Ghosts to be the residual imprint of an individual; someone powerful enough in the ways of the Force would inevitably leave an imprint within it, which the Force itself could manipulate into the form of the Force-user once they had passed on and no longer needed control of their own image.

A few, only a handful really, had started to whisper in the darkness about _what else_ they might be. Why, they asked, were all reported sightings of Force Ghosts only in the form of noteable Jedi? Where were the Sith lords, who held power above and beyond that of most Jedi? Where were the undiscovered Force sensitives, those with a link strong enough that they would have made formidable warriors, yet too old to be taken in by the Jedi Order? What else, they pondered, might linger in the dark, in the cold confines of space, watching and waiting and _seeing?_

Kylo Ren had no time for such things. Whether Force Ghosts existed or not was entirely irrelevant, and as he had never been able to catch so much as a fleeting glimpse of one, his assumption had always been that they were a myth, like much of the nonsense that the Jedi Order had spouted to the greedy flock of sheep who drank in their every word. After all, he mused, if something like that _could_ exist, why had his Grandfather not appeared before him? Certainly, there had been hints of _something_ , a hint of eyes on him or the whisper of a voice he could not quite hear, but not the perfect visage of another person before his eyes. Nonsense, without a doubt.

Still, the idea of there being _something else_ had him undeniably intrigued, though he would not have stated as such aloud. No, such things were for him to ponder in the quiet recess of his private space, hidden amongst the officer’s quarters aboard the Finalizer. They were not for open discussion, and certainly weren’t important enough to serve as a distraction when he had work to do.

Not that it was ‘work’ as such. Snoke had him hunting down those few Force-sensitives the Supreme Leader had his sights set upon. Some came willingly, lured by the promise of power and tutelage, to be indoctrinated as Knights or die in the process. Others refused and were cut down where they stood; Snoke was not having another repeat of the incident with that scavenger girl - _Rey_ , his mind provided helpfully, and he felt an unpleasant twisting in his gut at the memory of her name - so had decided that the best course of action would be to remove any and all potential threats. Which meant that Ren had to traverse much of the known galaxy hunting down potential enemies and _dealing_ with them.

Which was how he stumbled across a small, rundown tomb on a backwater planet in the middle of a solar system he hadn’t bothered to remember the name of. The Force-sensitive in question had been an old woman, too ancient to try to assign any sensible guess of age to, and he hadn’t bothered to ask. He had felt her presence long before the planet came into sight, stood upon the bridge of the Finalizer and staring out into the blackness of space as Hux barked orders somewhere below. The sensation was disturbing; never before had he felt anything such as this, power so intense, and the fact that they had only just come upon the life form _wielding_ such power meant that she had been hiding it for centuries.

She had looked up as he entered her abode, pointed to a large, ornate key upon her dresser, smiled a toothless grin, and promptly died.

He didn’t like to ponder on the fact she had, effectively and inarguably, summoned him there.

The key had taken some coaxing to turn in the lock of the large metal door he had found a scant few feet behind the house, rusted shut from too many years of disuse. Whatever was down there, it had not seen the light of day for possibly centuries, and Kylo was struck with the sudden idea that he had been called out there with the sole purpose of burying this strange old woman in her bizarre hidden tomb.

He might have simply blasted his way in, or sliced through with his lightsaber, yet the wards were still in place despite the death of their caster, and the metal was simply too thick; it would take hours to cut through, even for him. So, instead, he muttered and cursed, thankful that he was the only one present as slowly, _slowly_ , the key inched around until a click was heard on the other side.

The tomb was silent, save for his own footsteps as Kylo made his way down the long flight of stone steps into what felt like the very belly of the earth. It was dank, musty, and as he descended hidden wall sconces seemed to react to his presence, each one lighting with a blue flame in turn, extinguishing themselves once he was out of the range of their light. Strange, he thought, wondering if perhaps he might be able to take one back with him, to fathom how it worked.

The hallway at the base of the stone stairs was no different; more sconces, and with the exception of the occasional archway leading off into small side rooms, and the lack of steps, it was simply more of the same. The side rooms were perhaps only a meter and a half square in size, maybe smaller he could not be sure, and all were unlit. Each one, he discerned, contained no fewer than six corpses, laid out in rest upon what appeared to be stone bunk beds, each with a single bloom upon their breasts. Something within Ren told him not to touch the flowers, though they shimmered prettily in the near non-existent light, lest he wish to join those already held there. The bodies themselves were so far past decomposition that only skeletons remained, and while the air was musty and unpleasant, the stench of decay had long since been lost.

Kylo continued down the long corridor, counting twelve rooms in total, six to each side. The final room, to his surprise and mild annoyance, contained only five bodies, of which one still held firm to the last few scraps of flesh upon its bones. He had, it seemed, been brought to this place to lay the old woman to rest, and he considered for a moment ignoring her request and simply leaving to spite her. Something stilled his hand though; he was undeniably curious about the place, it held ancient power, the likes of which he had never felt before. It whispered to him, and there was the continued puzzle of the rose-like blooms that sat upon each corpse; why were they there, and what was the revulsion he felt upon seeing them?

After only a moment's ponderance, Kylo found that his mind had been made up seemingly without his input, steady and purposeful strides carrying him back out the way he came. The air outside was clean, fresh in a way he hadn’t known he might have missed, and he gulped down lungfulls of it, the strange pressure lifting from his chest as he moved further from the tomb and back to the house.

The old woman’s diminutive, wizened body was unexpectedly heavy, considering her small stature, and yet Kylo was finding that less and less was surprising him on that planet. He carried her down into the tomb, barely noticing the flickering torchlight, too caught up by the sensation of what felt like dozens of eyes watching him, following his every movement. He tried to shake it off and failed, a figment of his imagination to be ignored, and yet they persisted. By the time he was able to shift the body from his shoulder and place her upon her final resting place, Kylo was perspiring heavily, and his fingers itched for his saber, irritation building within his chest. Five pairs of empty eye sockets watched him, and he _knew_ that they saw.

There was a buzzing outside of the tiny room, felt more than heard, as though a large number of voices rose up in chatter all at once. Their words could not be heard, and the meaning was lost, but Kylo knew this was not his imagination and, despite himself, he could not help the first tricklings of real fear that ran down his spine.

He might have left then, fled back to his ship and awaiting trooper patrol, yet his feet seemed entirely unable to move from their spot upon the floor. As he watched, a black smear began to appear upon the dead woman’s chest, directly above where he assumed her heart might be - if whatever species she was had what they would refer to as a heart, that is - and even in the low light of the tomb he could perceive the inky blackness of death. The flower took form, rising from her chest to rest just below her throat, glistening as all the others had, inviting and deadly.

The bloom had scarcely grown still upon her corpse before a grating sound, as old as the ages, pierced the frigid, still air. Kylo startled, whipping out his saber and brandishing it, certain that he caught a glimpse of what might have been a hundred pairs of eyes watching him from the gloom, glinting in the red glow of his blade, though they were gone as swiftly as he could focus upon them, swallowed by the foreboding grave that surrounded him.

Stepping from the room, Kylo found that he was no longer at the end of the long corridor; a door had opened, so well hidden in the rock that he had not so much as suspected that it existed, revealing yet another room. If the side rooms were small, then this one was smaller still. Barely larger than a cupboard, it contained within a few dozen books, some scattered scrolls and a handful of trinkets. He could feel the power radiating from it, open and unabashed now that the seal had been broken, and any fear he might have felt was quickly quashed under Kylo Ren’s thirst for the wisdom it contained.

* * *

Dragging the texts back to his personal ship had, fortunately, only taken two trips. They were, as the woman’s body had been, surprisingly heavy and he did not trust the Stormtroopers who had accompanied him down to the surface to so much as touch the texts. Something whispered to him from the dark, told him that these were _his_ , and that no one else should so much as know of their existence, much less actually _touch_ them. The voice that wasn’t a voice might have been a concern, if he had not been so focused on his task, on the greedy want to sit down and read through everything he had found.

A sachel, old and frayed, had carried the first lot, and a chest emptied of tiny clothes the second. Hidden within the confines of wood and cloth, they seemed innocent enough, and none questioned the treasure he had uncovered. Not that they would have; Hux’s troopers knew to keep silent around the Force-user. While he had not outright _killed_ any of them yet - _yet_ \- the threat was still very much present.

His prize hummed in the back of his mind as he piloted the unnecessarily flashy Upsilon-class vessel back to the Finalizer, tone off slightly from the general buzz of his ship, enough that Kylo found his attention pulled near-constantly back to the chest and bag in the ship’s hold. It was enough of a distraction that he clipped the hangar bay doors with one of the raised wings as he maneuvered the oversized ship into the awaiting Star Destroyer, the damage minimal yet Kylo cursed himself for his own stupidity, letting the autopilot take him the rest of the way in. Hux would likely berate him for his oversight, or mock his ineptitude. Both, perhaps, and the singing hum of power was near deafening as he slung the bag over his shoulder, dragging the heavy trunk one-handed down the ramp even before it had finished lowering. He needed to return to his quarters, and quickly, to find what was making such a racket in his mind and silence it so that he might think.

“Lord Ren.” Of course, Hux had to be there to see his landing. Or, rather, his failure of one. The General’s lips had curled up in a sneer, though as they moved he found he could not hear the words that spilled from them, blood pounding in his ears as the noise intensified.

_Power_

_Take it_

_It’s yours_

“I will be returning to my quarters to meditate, General. Bother me later, if you must.” Kylo had no idea if he was shouting, or if Hux could even hear him, his own voice nothing but vibrations in his throat. The way the General’s lips pulled back in annoyance, baring his teeth in an expression that was almost feral, he had heard something at least. A hand shot out, grabbing his arm as he passed, and in that instant the screaming voices vanished, replaced again by the low, comforting hum that was little more than a promise of power.

Hux must have sensed something also, as his face shifted to a look of surprised puzzlement, and Ren chose not to dwell on what he might have perceived, tugging his arm free and striding out of the hangar bay without looking back, heavy chest scraping against the metal floor as he went. He did not notice the way Hux’s eyes followed him until he was out of sight, or the way the redhead’s hand - the same one that had taken hold of his arm - twitched and spasmed as though it was no longer under Hux’s control.

* * *

Kylo had dumped the contents of both bag and chest across the floor of his rooms almost as soon as the doors had shut behind him, rifling through papers and books, looking for whatever had deafened him earlier. His helmet was tossed to one side, forgotten, blood-matted hair scraped back from his face, the sticky clotting mass ignored for the moment as it congealed against his ears and neck. The damage from the noise had been physical as well, it seemed, yet he would heal. It was not something to linger upon.

His fingers glanced over one of the books, a heavy-set tome with binding that looked as though it might have been made from some sort of skin. Not leather, certainly, or at least it was like no leather he had ever seen before; paper thin and yet strong and unyielding, the colour of a dark mocha. A thrill travelled up his arm and Kylo startled slightly, knocking a fist-sized clear crystal out of the way as he dragged the book into his lap.

This? He couldn’t be certain. No, he _was_ certain, there was something - he couldn’t be sure, not yet. The Force-user barely remembered to breathe as he pulled open the tome with far more reverence than he would have shown any of his own possessions. His mind thrummed as he read the words before him, not understanding them yet somehow comprehending them. They spoke of power, of course, but also knowledge. Wisdom. Everything he would need to attain anything he might ever desire.

It was almost too much. Kylo’s breath came in short pants as he struggled to work his way through even the first few pages, sweat pouring off him. He knew this was not Sith in nature, the pull of it felt too different from the brightness of the Light or the endlessness of the Dark. No, this was something else, something far older. It was raw, it slashed at his mind, grating at him until the pain was almost physical.

The book snapped shut, and Kylo doubled over in something hovering between agony and bliss, a mania he had never before felt tugging at his conscious. He could not move, could barely think, mind a swirling vortex of chaos that simply would not calm.

* * *

There was something wrong, Hux could feel it. His fingers buzzed from where he had touched Ren - residual Force energy, perhaps? As much as he might sneer at the idea of it, openly mocking any use of the Force as religious nonsense, even he could not deny the power that it held. Hux was not so blind that he could continue to deny something so obviously dangerous, even if he could not perceive it himself.

Though he had wanted to march after the Knight, to berate him on his frankly appalling landing and demand to know what he had found that was so important that it had taken him almost a day to deal with down on that ridiculous mud-ball of a planet, Hux still had half a bridge shift to attend. Despite being the General of the entirety of the First Order’s fleet, with the power to do as he pleased, Hux was not one to shirk his responsibilities, leading as he wished to be followed. It helped to ensure his men looked up to him, knowing that he placed himself among them, yet it was the longest five hours of Hux’s life as an almost insatiable curiosity overcame him.

So, when the time came for the changeover of staff, Hux departed rather more swiftly than he would ordinarily have liked, pacing through the ship that had practically become his home. First to his own quarters, to shower and change; it would not do to remain in his primary uniform when he was off-duty, though for once it was certainly tempting.

Stepping out of the sonic shower some ten minutes later, something flickered across the edge of Hux’s peripheral vision. His head snapped to the right, looking for whatever had caught his attention, finding nothing save his robe hanging in place on the hook by the sliding door. His imagination he realised, biting back a laugh as he dressed swiftly, checking his appearance in the small mirror. He looked tired, drained even; too many long shifts and sleepless nights sitting up with the never-ending mountain of paperwork, he was starting to see things. It was tempting to simply retire to bed, but no, he needed to see Ren. Snoke was expecting a full report the next morning, from both of them, and he needed to be ready.

Besides, he hadn’t eaten yet, and Phasma would chew him out if he skipped yet another meal.

The buzzer echoed within Ren’s chambers as Hux leaned against it with perhaps more force than was strictly necessary, the sound going on for long enough to be at least a little irritating. He could hear nothing from within, yet that was no surprise, unless he was wreaking havoc on his ship, Hux rarely heard anything from Ren. He was, despite appearances, deceptively quiet.

“Ren?” There was no sound of shuffling feet, no swish of robes or beep of fingers against the entry pad. Hux rapped his knuckles against the cool metal of the door, waiting a fraction longer than he might have done for anyone else aboard his ship, before punching in his own personal manual override code and stepping into the darkened room.

It was pitch black in Ren’s rooms, far darker than should have been possible considering the ambient lighting that was installed around the ship. Even the bright light from the hallway seemed to be swallowed up into the impenetrable pitch. Hux could hear breathing, rough and ragged, too wet to be normal and perhaps only three paces away from where he stood on the border between light and dark.

Something moved behind him, and Ren’s door slid shut.

“Lights!” Nothing. If there was an edge of surprised nervousness to his voice, Hux would later deny it, or pass it off as little more than a hunger-induced urgency. He paused for a moment, heart beating a little too quickly in the sightless cage he had found himself within, before trying again. “Lights, eighty percent.” Still nothing. The General took a step back, and he was certain he felt something brush against his leg, around, up his inner thigh for a moment before it was gone again.

_“Lights, eighty percent!”_ There was no denying the mild panic in his voice now, and when the room finally, _finally_ illuminated, Hux could not help but breathe a sigh of relief. Ren was huddled on the floor in front of him, hunched over, trembling slightly yet otherwise unmoving. A cursory glance around revealed that they were alone, yet the echoes of _something else_ remained, a shiver running down Hux’s spine at the perception of being watched.

“Ren, what in the blazes do you think you’re doing?” No response, save a near-inaudible whimper that might have been his imagination; it had played enough tricks on him already, after all, what was one more? Hux took a step closer, then another, noting the small puddle of blood gathering before the Force user. He found himself crouched beside the other man, tempted at least in part to drag him forcefully up from the floor, to see what mess he had managed to get himself into this time. Yet, for some reason, he could not bring himself to do so. Almost without his bidding, Hux’s hand reached out to push tangled black curls away from Ren’s face, wincing at the clotting blood that had coated his jaw and neck from where it had trickled from his ear. A quick inspection of the other side revealed much the same, and yet still Ren would not move, would not look at him.

Hux was not a patient man, and certainly not where Ren’s perceived incompetence was concerned. Clearly he had done this to himself, or at least caused it in part, yet he would languish if left alone if his present condition was anything to go by. Gripping one of Ren’s elbows, Hux tugged sharply, aiming to bring the man to his feet or, at the very least, his knees.

_Now there is a pleasant thought_

Pushing the errant thought back down, Hux berated himself for the peculiar slip of his subconscious mind. Ren did not move, so he tried again, pulling hard enough that the man rocked forward, eyes snapping up without warning to meet Hux’s own. Black, bottomless eyes, so far removed from the usual soft brown that Hux wondered for a moment whether this _was_ Ren at all. They were wide, unseeing, red trickling from the sockets and down into Ren’s mouth, jaw slack. Hux startled at the sight, though he did not release Ren’s arm, not this time.

Dragging the Force-user to his feet, Hux dumped him unceremoniously into the only chair in the room, carefully avoiding the scattered books and scrolls that littered the floor. Ren slumped in his seat, head lolling to one side, book still pressed tightly against his chest. It thrummed, and Hux knew better than to try to touch something that could - he assumed, at least - leave someone as powerful as Kylo Ren in a mindless, bloody stupor. He had no desire to find out what it might be able to do to _him_.

Despite the sparse nature of Ren’s quarters, Hux was pleased to find the man kept a stocked first aid kit in the refresher, though he should not have been overly surprised, he thought, to find it rather more comprehensive than his own. Ren was, after all, a walking time bomb, it made sense that he would need to patch himself up more frequently than the average person, and he had never been overly enamoured with the medical bay.

Hux’s boot impacted with something, a heavy clatter reaching his ears as he looked down, frowning at the clear lump of what appeared to be crystal laying at his feet. Picking the thing up, it felt oddly heavy in his hand, and cool to the touch yet not unpleasantly so. It appeared to be multi-faceted, yet was entirely smooth, sparkling prettily in the artificial lights. He would not have minded keeping such a thing, yet he had no idea what it was or what it _did_ , and Ren would likely slice up half the ship if he simply took it. So, with some reluctance, Hux placed it down on the small table beside the first aid kit and got to work.

Antiseptic wipes took care of most of the blood with ease, though Ren would need to shower to rid his hair of the flaking mess, and it appeared that worst of the bleeding had stopped for the moment. There were no cuts, no actual damage that Hux could see, so there was little he could do aside from clean away the worst of the mess and hope Ren hadn’t caused any permanent damage; he was, apparently, still needed, though most of the time Hux had very little idea why. The overgrown child spent more time getting in the way or destroying vital equipment than he did doing anything supposedly useful.

“Hux?” He hadn’t expected Ren to speak, hadn’t expected him to do much of anything really, and the cloth that had been dabbing just below Ren’s right eye stilled.

“Ren.” Came the curt response, not quite a snap of the tongue yet close enough to make the Force-user wince. Hux quickly filed the shallow twitch away for later contemplation, wondering if it might have been the tone or the volume of his voice that triggered such an out of character response.

“What are you doing?” There might have been a mild hint of accusation there, yet Ren remained - for the most part - motionless, as the movement of Hux’s hand resumed and the cool cloth scraped over slightly pink skin.

“Clearing up your mess, as usual.” Hux partly expected to be pushed away at that, forced backwards and away, the effortless press of nothingness at his throat. Yet the rejection did not come, and that in itself was a curious thing.

“S’cold.” Ren was swaying slightly in his seat, and as Hux tilted the man’s head back to get a better look at the mess he was clearing from Ren’s lips and chin, he noted the tired expression and drooping eyelids, slowly closing over honeyed brown, the black having retreated into slightly blown pupils for the moment at least. The brown, he thought, suited Ren much better.

“It’s eighteen-point-five degrees in here, it’s not cold.” Despite his mild, partially forced irritation, Hux could not help but note how the man shivered beneath his touch, skin clammy and colder than he would have expected. Ren was pale, approaching something more like Hux’s own complexion than was usual with the still-pink scar standing out in jagged relief. Were it anyone else he might have felt something akin to concern for the man. Or, perhaps if _he_ were someone else, Hux mused as he dumped the soiled cloth upon the floor amidst the rest of the clutter and tugged Ren up from his seat non-too-gently.

“Feels cold.” It was not an argument as such, more of a statement really, Ren leaning heavily against Hux’s side and offering no protest as he was half-dragged through to the sparse bedroom he seldom occupied.

“I’m sure you’re more than capable of dressing yourself for bed.” Hux sneered, but there was no venom behind it, and he began to wonder if perhaps he was losing his edge. Ren did not seem to notice, whimpering slightly as he was all but dropped onto the unmade bed, book still gripped tightly to his chest, and that most certainly was not a twinge of guilt Hux felt at his own carelessness.

A figure flickered in the bedroom doorway and Hux studiously ignored both it, and the stab of nervous fear, the delusions of his tired mind having taken up too much of his precious focus already.

“Stay?” A hand, surprisingly strong considering Ren’s prone state, gripped at his wrist as Hux turned to leave. He stared down at the man for a moment, before wrenching his arm free and glaring at the Force-user, lip curled up in a sneer.

“Petulant child.” He snapped, only in part aware that the words were not his own, something aching at the repetition of his own childhood in such bizarrely different circumstances. Lips pressing into a thin line at Ren’s low whine of apparent disappointment, he turned on his heel and marched out, cheeks flaming as he retreated to his own quarters.

* * *

The room was black as pitch, as Hux preferred it when he slept, finding the darkness better suited to a deep, dream-free sleep than the semi-light preferred by most officers in his fleet. It was more economical, and generally allowed him to sleep through the night, uninterrupted. The blackness was soft as velvet, cocooning him in his nightly solitude, and that in itself was usually enough to lull him off to sleep and keep him there.

Hux was very much aware that he was awake. He knew dreams, avoided them where necessary, and knew from the scratch of sheets and clamminess of his palms as he clenched them tightly enough to leave half-moon imprints, that he was certainly not trapped in the fictitious ramblings of his own mind. No, he was awake, and he was very much not alone.

Someone was _breathing_.

Holding his own breath, Hux tried to pinpoint the noise, years of expertise allowing him to locate the sound with ease. Someone was hunched over his bed, staring down at him, close enough that he could hear them yet not so close that he could feel the warm draft of each exhale. He tensed minutely, hoping that the trespasser believed him still to be sleeping, and that his awareness of their presence might give him the upper hand.

“ _Lights_ , forty percent!” He had not wanted to blind himself, needing his sight to take down the would-be attacker, swiftly pushing himself backwards and hopefully out of the range of any impending attack.

None came. His room was empty.

Sitting up in bed, his sheets yanked from their place by his sudden movements and hair dishevelled, Hux glanced frantically around his room, listening for any noise, any indication of where the intruder had gone. Yet, he found nothing, no sign that any save himself had been present in the room, heart hammering against his ribcage as he tried to force calm by dragging in deep, cool breaths.

A glance at his datapad indicated Hux had slept for only a scant few hours, the digits reading three-fifteen in the morning. He had scarcely three hours left until he needed to be up, and Hux knew he likely would not sleep again that night, raising the lighting level and stumbling to the refresher to rinse his face with what small amount of bathing water he was allocated.

* * *

Kylo frowned at the unassuming-looking clear crystal on his table, almost certain that he had not placed it there the previous night. Picking the thing up, it felt heavy in his hand, more so than expected, yet there did not seem to be anything particularly special about it. He felt no power emanating from the smooth surface, nothing lurking in the faceted depths. Placing it back on the table with a shrug, wondering for scarcely a moment why Hux would move that and nothing else, Kylo pulled his mask into place and strode from his chambers.

* * *

“Lord Ren.” Hux did not look at the cloaked figure as it moved near-silently to stand beside him, too used to the Force-user’s presence to be particularly concerned or surprised by him any more.

“General.” The bridge buzzed with activity, the usual low-level noise of men and women getting on with the jobs they had been born to do. “You look like hell.” Hux did not deign him with a response, staring straight ahead, out into the endless chasm of space. He was acutely aware of Ren’s presence, the voice modulator lowering the pitch of each breath, seeming louder than it perhaps was. Their meeting with Snoke had gone well enough, the Supreme Leader seeming pleased at something Hux had not quite grasped, yet the figure just out of sight and the breathing in his room continued to plague his thoughts to an unforgivable degree.

“Ren,” Hux was not certain how to voice his question, tongue flicking out to moisten unusually dry lips. Or, perhaps it wasn’t that he did not know how, more that he feared he already knew the answer and did not wish to hear either it or the accompanying mockery. “The early hours of this morning, where were you?”

“Asleep, in my quarters. I should have thought you would know that, General, considering you were the one who put me there.” And refused to stay, he thought, unnecessarily disappointed by the man’s refusal to share his bed.

“Of course.” The note of distraction in Hux’s voice did not go unnoticed, and Ren frowned behind his mask, reaching out to prod gently at the chaotic calm of Hux’s mind, finding nothing amiss aside from a slight flickering concern at something just below the surface, something he could not grasp.

“Why?” He asked, curiosity piqued by what might have caused such a reaction from the unflappable General, watching as the thread was buried deeper, further out of reach.

“It is of no consequence.” Hux waved a dismissive hand at his co-commander, breaking his laser-sharp stare from the passing stars to stare down at his crew. “Just forget I asked.” Naturally, Ren could do anything but.

* * *

Hux was not certain how he found himself at Ren’s quarters two nights in a row, though he was undeniably displeased about it. The missive could have been delivered by any of his crew really, any officer would have done, yet it needed to be read and signed and Hux knew full well that he was the only person on board who could guarantee that would happen.

So he knocked, and waited, contemplating the buzzer for only a moment before the door swept open seemingly of its own accord. Ren sat amidst the same chaos as the previous night, in seemingly the same position, book in his lap and eyes downcast as they flitted over words Hux could not hope to read. The man had removed his helmet and robes, sitting in little more than his breeches and boots, and if Hux took a moment longer than necessary to admire the sharp cut of Ren’s chest, the flex of his stomach and the straight lines of his shoulders, well, none would be any the wiser.

_Except Ren_ he realised a fraction of a second too late, scowling as the corners of Ren’s mouth twitched upwards for a moment. “Can I help you, General?”

“I need you to read and sign this.” Hux shoved the datapad in front of Ren’s face, blocking his view of the book. To his surprise, Ren simply took the pad, switching his attention to it almost immediately and reading through the unnecessarily long missive.

The crystal on the desk caught Hux’s eye as he waited, sparkling with a hue he was certain it had not possessed when he was there previously. Tugging his glove free, he picked up the heavy weight, feeling the cool press of it against his fingers and palm. It felt almost soothing, holding the thing, his thumb sliding over the smooth surface.

“Do you like pretty stones, General?” He had not noticed Ren watching him, and jumped slightly as the man spoke, glaring daggers at the smirking Force-user.

“I was thinking it might make a good paperweight.” Hux might have returned it to it’s place on the desk, if Ren had not switched his attention back to the datapad. Instead, he clenched his hand around it a little tighter. “What is it?”

“A bauble, a trinket. Whatever power it once held is long since lost.” Ren hummed to himself for a moment, before adding his signature to the missive and handing the datapad back. “Keep it, I’ve no use for it.” Hux nodded stiffly at that, retreating from the room as swiftly as he dared, feeling Ren’s eyes on his back the whole way.

* * *

Hux did not sleep well that night, choosing to keep the lights on at five percent so that none might sneak up on him while he dozed. The ‘bauble’, as Ren had dubbed it, sparkled even more keenly in the low light, and he wondered if the knight was perhaps mistaken in thinking that it held no power from the light it seemed to give off. The hours ticked by, sleep eluding him. Hux huffed out an irritated sigh, sitting up in bed with the intention of retrieving a glass of water.

A dark figure stood just beyond the dimly lit doorway to his refresher. Hux sat, stock still, staring without blinking at the black form. He could make out no features, nothing that might give away any sort of identity. The light seemed to fail around the shape, and it wasn’t until it moved, striding towards him, that Hux was able to bark out the order for lights.

There was nothing there. Hux gave up on sleep that night as well.

* * *

Kylo could feel eyes on him, watching, the gaze so intense that even one less blessed with the Force than he would be able to sense it. The intent though, that was something he could not so easily pinpoint. Casting his own mind back, he let it flit over each of the crew members assembled, finding nothing but fear in their thoughts of him.

Until Hux. Hux, cold as he was, staring with such heated intensity that it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. There was some confusion there, more for the _why_ than the _what_ , and still the General stared.

Desire rolled off the man in waves, _want_ , and Kylo could not help but think that, perhaps, he was not entirely adverse to such a thing. It might be useful, he thought with a grin, hidden by the anonymity of his helmet.

* * *

“You have not been sleeping.” Ren was, at that point, the absolute last person Hux wanted to see. He turned tired eyes on the man, mustering up what little amount of animosity he could to glare weakly at him as the knight fell into step beside him.

“I’m not sure how that’s any of your business.” If there was no real heat behind Hux’s comment, it was thanks to simple exhaustion and nothing more, he thought.

“It is if it’s affecting the running of this ship.” Ren shot back, gaze sweeping back and forth as they paced down the corridor, more on edge than was usual.

“So now you’re the sensible one?” Hux huffed, well aware of how ridiculous he sounded, and when Ren’s hand gripped his elbow he allowed himself to be directed into the nearest elevator without protest. “Where are we going?”

“Two of your men are dead, by your own hand. Why?” Tugging the helmet from his head, Ren let it drop to the floor with a loud clang as the elevator began to move. He stepped forward, crowding Hux back against the metal wall, using the few additional inches in height to his advantage.

“They were a blot against the First Order, they needed to be eradicated.” No one needed to know how his hand had grabbed the knife from his boot, seemingly without his consent. How it had sliced through the throat of first one, then the other of the men, felling them easily. They were dead before Hux even realised what he had done, their blood spattering the front of his otherwise pristine uniform.

“That isn’t what I was asking.” Ren’s eyes bore into him, and Hux glared back, tight-lipped, giving away nothing. Hux hated getting his own hands dirty, not when he had an entire battalion to do so for him. To do so willingly, and at such close quarters, was uncharacteristic. Ren’s concern did not end there, though; over the past few nights, Hux’s mind had seemingly shut down, closed to his prying. What was once effortless, was now a sealed box, all thoughts and memories locked away and out of his grasp. Hux alone should not have been capable of such things, yet Kylo had felt nothing, no disturbance or presence that might explain the odd change.

“I wasn’t aware that you cared.” Hux sneered, his tone icy cold.

“I don’t.” Ren replied, silencing him with a kiss.

* * *

Kylo’s eyes narrowed, not so much reading the ancient text as simply understanding it. The book had been beyond useful, teaching him things he knew surpassed even the knowledge of his Master. He had skills that no other living being in the galaxy possessed, the universe even, and while they would not win the war against the Light for him, they would certainly help to turn the tide.

Except, Kylo was no longer certain he was fighting the Light. Rather, he had abandoned it entirely, the essence of his acquired texts a raw and unshaped form of the Force that had no use for such concepts as ‘Light’ and ‘Dark’. And he, Kylo Ren, was forming something new, something sharp and deadly.

It was powerful, but it was dangerous. The book spoke of counter-measures, of steeling oneself against the will of others. And, it spoke of _taking_ others, or moulding them to his will, taking their forms and _breaking_ them. Entrapment, possession, it spoke of body-swapping and a death that was not final.

It spoke of a death that was.

Kylo avoided much of the darkest chapters, flitting past pages that made his skin crawl, an oblivion too deep and he feared if he were not careful he might tip over the edge into it. Into the forever that those pages promised. It was a future he did not want, Kylo Ren had never wanted ‘forever’, only ‘now’ and the power of the present.

Still, as he flitted over those pages, something nagged at the back of his mind, something he could not quite grasp. There was something familiar about the promises on those pages, something that he knew was inherently and deeply _wrong_. It bothered him, more than it perhaps should have, and the book snapped shut with a waft of musty air. He would meditate on it, and perhaps the Force might give him the answer he sought.

* * *

“Something is bothering you.” Kylo leaned over to nip at the nape of Hux’s neck, more an irritation than any sort of true affection, snickering softly to himself when the redhead aimed an elbow at his gut, and missed.

“You’re right for once, Ren. _You’re_ bothering me.” Hux huffed in annoyance, signing his name at the foot of the contract he had been reading. “Kindly do us both a favour and _go away_.”

“I don’t mean me.” Ren hummed, though he took the hint and backed away slightly, just far enough that Hux would not easily be able to lash out a second time. Not that he could hurt Ren even if he _did_ , but it was better to avoid the confrontation altogether.

“I’m just tired, is all.” With a sigh, Hux leaned back in his chair, stretching until his back popped before settling back into the uncharacteristic slouch he had adopted of late. “Why are you even here? Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Not particularly.” Came the surprisingly honest, if infuriating, response. “Tell me what’s bothering you and I’ll leave. Or, better yet, let me into your mind so I can see for myself.”

“Just take it for yourself, I haven’t time for this.” Nor did Hux particularly feel like putting to words the odd flitting shapes, the figures that appeared and disappeared, the breathing of another when he was entirely alone. He was certain he might be going entirely mad, and putting voice to such things would only confirm his self-diagnosis.

“If you insist.” The surface of Hux’s mind was smooth as a millpond, not a ripple in sight. There was no flickering of thought, no odd spike of memory or opinion, even the words that those cold eyes scanned from the page in front of him disappeared below the surface before Kylo could grasp them.

At first, Kylo smoothed over the surface, hoping for a ripple, a stray thought that might let him in. He received nothing in response, no thread that he could grip, and so he pushed harder, pulled, clawing at the surface of a box that simply would not open for him no matter what he did.

“Well?” Hux snapped, turning to glower at the Knight, seemingly unaffected by the vicious attack against his consciousness. Ren frowned, pushing harder still. Hux should not be capable of such things, had not been previously when Kylo sought answers from his mind; such an abrupt change in mental fortitude was simply impossible.

With a snarl, Ren turned on his heel and stormed from the room, saying nothing. The dark shape in the doorway grinned.

* * *

There were any number of offices where Hux could complete his work in peace, free of any disruption, and he hated every single one of them. They were too small, enclosed, spaces without any windows and walls that seemed to close in on him. No, he much preferred the fifteenth floor meeting room, with it’s plush leather seats that squeaked when he sat and the smooth, deep red of the polished wooden table. Real wood, the only one on board, and although the expense had been marginally more than he could justify, it had been worth it.

Hux huffed out a sigh at the plans scattered before him, maps with notes scribbled over them, dots that had made so much sense the previous day meaning nothing at all to him now. Adjust, step back, think, adjust. The plans changed, the targets moved, and still Hux was not satisfied with the unusually high level of losses his current strategy predicted.

An odd tapping interrupted his thought process, and Hux looked up, frowning at the empty room. There was nothing, no movement, no sign of an intruder. Vermin in the pipes again, perhaps; they would stow aboard on the supply shuttles and make their homes in the vents. He would have to request another cleansing of the ship, it seemed.

The tapping sounded again, behind him, and Hux swivelled around in his seat. He was met with the cold expanse of space, stretching on forever through the floor-to-ceiling windows installed in the meeting room. It was a glorious sight, pinpricks of light dotted over the inky blackness, broken only by the clarity of his own reflection.

As he watched, the reflection lifted up one hand, and tapped.

* * *

“I know you’re there.” Silence, save the low hum of the lighting that chased away the shadows in his meditation chamber. “What are you?” Still no response, save a distant, cruel laughter that make Kylo’s blood run cold.

* * *

They weren’t cuddling, they _weren’t_. And yet, with Ren pressed up against his back, hot breath tickling his neck, Hux wasn’t certain how it could be seen as anything _else_. It was almost cute, really, how the knight had wrapped himself around Hux and clung to him in sleep, so determined to _protect_ even while his waking mind screamed _destroy_.

It was irritating. Sliding out from beneath Ren’s grip, Hux was treated to a small whimper of loss from the Knight as he padded silently towards his refresher. Allowing Ren to share his bed had seemed like a good idea, while the man had him pressed against the wall, talented lips travelling down the long, pale expanse of Hux’s neck. Now though, in the pitch of night while the rest of the crew slept, it was an inconvenience. The heavy breathing and occasional snores of another was something Hux was not used to, and it ensured he remained awake, despite his clear exhaustion after over a week and a half of ridiculous hallucinations.

He would give it another two days, he decided. If sleep continued to elude him then, if the insomnia-induced illusions remained, he would seek medical help. _Quietly_. The last thing he needed was a blot on his mental health record.

Hux let the door to the refresher slide closed behind him, lights bright enough to make him squint as he emptied his bladder before turning to cleanse his hands in the sonics. He was being ridiculous, he knew. He needed to return to bed, make it through the remainder of the night, and tomorrow perhaps book a few days off to thoroughly exhaust himself. Yes, that would do it, and he was certain Ren would not mind assisting.

Looking up, feeling at least marginally more positive than he had moments before, Hux found that the face which stared back at him from the mirror was not his own.

His entire world went black.

* * *

It was dark, when Hux awoke. Darker than it should have been, a pitch that should not have been possible, an emptiness that almost ached with the numbness of sensation. “You’re awake.” Ren’s voice was muffled, as though speaking through water. He fought through the rising panic to force his mouth open, to voice the multitude of questions that he could not quite name, and yet nothing happened. The words simply would not come. Somewhat distantly, he could feel movement, his _own_ movement, his head moving of its own accord, turning to look at Ren with a smirk that was not his own.

“Shouldn’t I be?” They were not his words, and yet it was his mouth that moved, his voice which escaped. Something else was in control, and Hux could feel himself being pulled, slowly but surely, further back into his own mind. The darkness intensified and the lingering warmth of the arm he knew had been draped over his chest faded into nothing.

“I’ve destroyed it, the thing that’s been following you.” _No_ , Hux screamed within his own mind as his hand travelled, unbidden, up Ren’s thigh. _You haven’t_. He fought against it, pushing when he was pulled, useless against the indomitable force that had him in it’s grip.

“Then you have my thanks.” _Help me!_ Lips curling up into a wicked grin, face hidden against Ren’s neck, no one heard Hux’s final scream.


End file.
